


Oh Oh Oh Oh

by baku_midnight



Category: Dead Rising
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Desk Sex, Frank is a newsman and Nick is an intern, M/M, News Reporter AU, Office Sex, Older Man/Younger Man, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 05:39:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5152349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baku_midnight/pseuds/baku_midnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a middle-aged Frank runs a successful news site and Nick has a precocious crush. The result is sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh Oh Oh Oh

**Author's Note:**

> My favourite game of all time is Dead Rising, and despite my disappointment with everything about the third game of the series, there was one good thing to come out of it: dressing up brown-eyed Ken doll Nick Ramos in aviators, a leather biker jacket on top with nothing but black nylons and lacy garters underneath. Good times.

Frank West sighed and scratched his greying temples as he contemplated the same dilemma every newsman faced on a weekly basis: whether to run the meaningful-yet-solemn, and possibly globally-significant _news_ story, or the fluffy, attention-grabbing _gossip_ piece on the front page. The one would preserve his paper’s credibility, and the other would sell issues, and putting the wrong one on the front page could lose him some serious moolah.

 

Not that it was an actual front “page” – it’d been long since that his news was delivered on _paper_ – but his website still had significant ad revenue to gain or lose on the top page, so he had to choose wisely. He tipped back his head and remembered fondly the days when the only news came from papers and TV – but back in those days, cameras had film, too, so…he gagged internally a little to realize exactly how old he was getting.

 

Today’s contest was between a story about the discovery of a toxin found in a rare Amazonian frog that might have applications in curing paralysis, and a gossip piece about the mayor’s third divorce in as many years. Frank could console himself with the justification that the mayor’s personal life was technically, kinda, _sorta_ politics, but he was still torn. Maybe he’d ought to ask the intern, Nick, what he thought: the kid seemed to have a finger on what interested people. Only, Frank was a little hesitant to bring him in, given the way he was acting lately…

 

He was a good kid, really. Did his work and took it seriously, spoke politely and always came in on time – only, Frank was 90% sure the kid was hitting on him.

 

Nick Ramos, just this side of 19, would come in wearing tighter and tighter pants, and then insist on bending at the waist to pick things up, brushing his shoulder against Frank’s when they passed in the hall, and jump at the chance for just the two of them to be alone in a room together. It could be he was just a naturally friendly guy, unaware of the impact of his incredible physique and the come-hither looks he gave with those big brown eyes, in which case Frank would probably see himself facing a shit-ton of awkwardness and a sexual harassment suit or two if he said anything.

 

But…no, no, that’s not what it was. Frank was old enough, he’d _seen_ enough to know when he was being hit on. And innocent little Nick Ramos was hitting on him. In, well, the most blatant way possible an intern _could_ hit on his boss without getting fired on the spot.

 

Speaking of the pouty-lipped devil, Nick walked by the office door just as Frank popped open his email to send the final story off to his webmaster. Frank called out almost reluctantly and waved the kid over, curling his fingers in the air.

 

“Should we go with the poison-dart frog cure piece, or the mayor’s new squeeze story, do you think?” he asked as Nick approached the desk. He had a stack of papers to shred under one burly arm, which he shifted gently to bring against his body.

 

“Uh, I don’t really know, I mean, I’m no expert,” Nick dismissed, although he peered over Frank’s shoulder at the two open documents anyway.

 

“Well, which do you think people would want to read more?” Frank asked, limiting his intonation as if addressing a particularly slow child. Frank was never known for his patience at the best of times, and looking up, he saw Nick’s button-up was undone to the _third_ button. Fair, given the late summer weather, but _still_. Frank peered down at his _own_ bared chest beneath an ever-open collar and supposed he had no right to judge.

 

“Frankly, Mr. West,” Nick answered, then, “I think people are sick of Delgato’s marriage drama. They want something new.”

 

“So, the frog article, then?” Frank clarified.

 

“Yeah, only,” Nick shrugged, shifting the bundle higher into his armpit, “maybe make it sound more positive? There’s a lot of ‘if’s and ‘but’s in there, and people don’t like to hear so many caveats.”

 

“So, get people’s hopes up?” Frank nodded, with an eyebrow raised, “I can do that.”

 

“No, maybe, just, focus on the positives,” Nick answered, “people like positive.”

 

Frank _hmmed_ his confirmation. Maybe he’d just been around negative, self-defeating people for so long it was rubbing of on him: after all, Carlito and Isabela, two of his journalists, weren’t exactly rays of sunshine, and Brad, his editor, wasn’t the “jovial” type. Plus, he was positive that Chuck, his ever bitingly-sarcastic sports editor had never cracked an actual smile in his life. Maybe it would do good to focus on the positive potential of this story, rather than be critical of the possible shortcomings, for once.

 

“Alright, the poison frogs have it,” Frank affirmed, closing the other file and placing his editing fingers neatly on the keyboard. “I’m counting on you, kid,” he said to Nick, who seemed to blush a little, a smile breaking out across his face as he turned to leave the office.

 

*

 

The story turned out to be a hit, with even the morning talk shows covering it, excitedly chattering and giving their own uninformed but entertaining opinions on the matter. Frank congratulated himself on a job well done over his breakfast burrito as he walked to his office.

 

Nick was between errands when Frank caught his attention, voice booming in the bustling corridor.

 

“Good call on the story, kid!” Frank congratulated him when Nick came over, patting the boy on the shoulder with a manly slap.

 

“Aw, I’m sure it was a fluke,” he answered, blushing and palming the back of his neck bashfully. He looked up at Frank through huge eyes and long black lashes that didn’t seem to match the massive muscles under his dangerously tight polo shirt.

 

Frank palmed Nick’s shoulder briefly, looking his upper body up and down. He was a real catch – a sweetheart, mama’s boy (if the calls he answered from someone called ‘Rhonda’ every day at lunch were any indication) and good-looking to boot. “What did you do before this, son? Lift weights? Lifeguard?”

 

“Oh, no,” Nick blushed as Frank took distracted bite of his hand-held breakfast, “I was a mechanic. But I did wrestle a little in high school.” Then he placed his hand on Frank’s bicep, seemingly apropos of nothing.

 

Frank peered at the offending hand, which lingered just…well, okay, _way_ too long to be construed as anything other than intentional. He looked back up at Nick with eyebrows crooked.

 

“You were always kind of an inspiration to me, Mr. West,” the boy admitted sheepishly, hand resting firmly on Frank’s thick upper arm, which bulged beneath his sports jacket. Frank’s wrestling days ended a long time ago, but his body still remembered its old – not inconsiderable, if Frank did say so himself – strength, and reacted accordingly to the compliment.

 

“Right,” Frank replied impassively, waiting another whole two seconds before Nick’s hand slid off of him, and he tucked them both back behind his back, for all intents pushing his bust out like a girl who’d just picked up something new from Victoria’s Secret and was desperate for someone to notice.

 

Frank cleared his throat. “Okay, well. Thanks for the tip, anyway.”

 

He turned and waved Nick off, going into his office and shutting the door with an odd scrunching feeling in his head, and more specifically, his _dick_.

 

This wasn’t going to end well.

 

*

 

The next day passed without incident, and all the way up until 6:30 Frank was pretty sure he was going to get away clean, until Nick peeked his head into the doorway of his office, eyes all wide and curious, pouty lips pursed.

 

“Are you still here, Mr. West?” the teen asked, leaning into the doorframe. His forearms were bare, because he was wearing yet _another_ polo shirt, this one a dark blue that hugged his pecs and shoulders perfectly.

 

Frank rubbed his temples, letting out a sigh. Everyone else had gone home but the kid stuck around. He may well have had a good reason, but at the moment Frank’s mind couldn’t consider any possible work-based motives for his remaining behind so very late.

 

“Yeah, sure am,” Frank replied, “get in here, will ya?”

 

He watched as Nick hopped from the doorway with a spring in his step, and when no longer obstructed by the wall Frank could see that he was wearing shorts – white _tennis shorts_. They clung to his hips and bore two slits up the outer thighs for added flexibility. Appropriate for the climate, granted, but seriously?! How was he not sent home to change yet, bearing a note for his parents and/or guardians about his attire? Jeez!

 

Frank got to his feet anyway as Nick found the opposite edge of his desk apparently too far away from him and walked right around the back. All the editor-in-chief needed to take care of was a bit of mailing, then he was free to go, and none-too soon. He pawed at a pile of manila envelopes on his desk, double-checking the stack before shuffling it together and handing it to Nick.

 

“These need to go to reception, into outgoing mail,” Frank ordered, piling on a few more items as Nick nodded attentively. “But hold on, there’s just one more…”

 

He spotted a small envelope on the far edge of his desk and reached for it, wincing a little as his back cinched, unused to the effort after sitting in a desk chair all day, making him let out a little groan.

 

“I’ll get it, sir!” Nick leapt forward immediately, reaching for the item as well, stepping his toe into Frank’s heel and knocking them both off balance. Thrown off, Nick fell back against the desk, his behind hitting the edge and pulling Frank down with him, who caught himself with his hands on the desk, one on either side of Nick’s hips.

 

Frank could practically hear Nick’s heartbeat rushing by his ears, his face had come so close to the intern’s chest. But before he ended up burying himself in the lad’s heaving bosom he got his balance, hovering over Nick and staring down at him. Nick just stared back up, shock-still and gorgeous eyes wide.

 

“Look, I get what’s happening here,” Frank began, taking a steeling breath. “I see what’s going on, and I’m telling you, it’s not going to happen.”

 

Nick looked at bewildered at the older man for a moment, searching his eyes, gaze dipping for just a split second to his mouth – which Frank sure as _shit_ noticed – then he conceded, nodding his head. “Yes, sir.”

 

Frank sighed as he stood, back creaking a little as he rose to full height, letting Nick up to follow him. They were still standing mere inches apart, close enough that Frank could smell Nick’s scent, the spearmint chewing gum on his breath, the natural scent of his sweat. Maybe it was because he was still young and fresh, but he smelled so alarmingly good, it took all of Frank’s control not to press his nose into the kid’s neck and take a good whiff.

 

“I know how it goes, alright,” Frank explained, as he’d been down that road plenty of times with plenty of secretaries, and plenty of well-intentioned, high-heeled budding journalists with daddy complexes. And plenty of professional wrestling groupies. And reporters. And—well, just _plenty_. “I just want to nip this thing in the bud, y’feel me?”

 

He held his breath, waiting for the kid to freak out or tell him he had it all wrong or run away crying, but Nick just nodded, looking disappointed, but resigned. He started to back away from his boss and towards the open door, clutching the mailing to his chest like a shield. “Okay.”

 

“Right,” Frank nodded back, wringing his hands, and reaching for his camera and bag, pretending to make himself busy. The last thing he wanted was to share the elevator ride down with the kid if they left the office at the same time, so he mimed packing his bag with basically nothing. “Okay. We’re good?”

 

“Yes, Mr. West,” Nick answered, lip trembling as he left the room, gathering up the last envelope from the desk before he went, leaving Frank to wonder if he hadn’t just broken someone’s heart.

 

No, this was good. It was all out on the table. He’d said his piece, and that should be the end of it. And besides, if he did break the kid’s heart, it wouldn’t be the first time. He sighed, realizing that his “alone time” before bed tonight would definitely be accompanied by images of Nick Ramos’s firm ass pressed up to his desk, burgundy lips parted around a breathy, longing “Mr. West…”

 

*

 

A few days passed without incident, though Nick never did stop wearing shirts and shorts that were at least a size too small, keeping all the so-inclined folks – and probably plenty of undecided or uninclined ones as well, his chest _was_ pretty irresistible and Frank didn’t judge – on their toes the whole work day, and Frank even felt comfortable asking him to come in and give his opinion on another news piece. This time was a toss-up between a story about an alleged cult of worshipers who all wore matching yellow coats, and a civil rights group who advocated for those who experienced “spiritual harm” caused by playing violent video games.

 

“Probably the video games one,” Nick answered, trying to carefully extract Frank’s latte from the carton it was pressed a little too firmly into, “people don’t know a lot about cults, but _everybody_ has _plenty_ to say about video games, trust me.”

 

Frank, seated at his computer, rubbed his chin thoughtfully while Nick struggled with his coffee. He finally got the pumpkin spice latte with double cream and sugar – so what, Frank loved the shit out of those things! – loose and popped the lid off to let it cool. But when he did, his thumb brushed accidently through some of the whipped cream piled on top, spreading a streak of the white stuff up the side of his hand.

 

“Whoops,” Nick admonished, lifting his hand to his mouth. With Frank watching with a mix of intrigue, horror, but mostly disbelief, he licked the cream off of his hand with a long, furtive, _wet_ stroke of his tongue.

 

What. The. Fuck.

 

Frank just stared in incredulity as Nick caught his gaze, and sunk the tip of thumb into his mouth, licking it clean and pulling off with a pop. He stared, eye contact unbroken and then he reached and plunged his forefinger into the messy whip, pulling it out and then bringing it to his lips. He sunk the sticky digit into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked it clean, pulling it out again and leaving it glistening.

 

That. That was…just. _Enough._

 

Frank leapt to his feet, slamming his hands down on the desk, causing the hot latte to splash agitatedly. Nick scooped it up immediately.

 

“Sir! Careful!” Nick said, looking around for somewhere to place the drink.

 

“Forget the damn latte!” Frank shouted, frightening unconcerned about who heard it. Nick jolted in surprise, brown eyes going wide.

 

“Didn’t I say this _wasn’t_ going to happen?!” he accused, and Nick nodded frantically, latte in one hand and lid clutched in the other. He took a step cautiously away from his fuming boss, who stepped deliberately forward.

 

“Yes, sir! I mean, no! No, sir!” Nick stumbled, looking up at Frank with wet eyes. He looked like a kid who had broken something and was expecting to be punished, and that image _really_ shouldn’t have been as tempting as it was. Frank didn’t have time to debate whether or not he was growing a _serious_ complex or if it was just his typically kinky taste because his blood was running hot, and it was all being directed to one particular place.

 

“This is gonna end in tears, kid, didn’t I tell you?” Frank went on, shaking his head. Nick nodded his agreement, backing away until his firm rear connected with the shelf behind him, which rattled under his unintentional force. “I told you this was a bad idea!”

 

“I know, sir, I know, just, I always admired you, and I thought—” Nick let out, drawing in a shaky breath. He was like a dog chasing a car – now that he’d caught it, he didn’t know what to do with it. Or maybe more like a monkey badgering a tiger – because now, Frank was bearing his teeth, and he was ready to attack.

 

Nick looked around exasperated for another moment before deciding he needed to put that damn piping hot beverage down before anything else, and he turned around to place it on the shelf, putting his back to Frank.

 

Dammit, Frank would probably never know how much of this kid’s flirting was intentional and how much was just him being _too clueless_ to realize how unbelievably gorgeous he was.

 

Nick let out a little gasp as Frank’s hands encircled his waist from behind, a bulge in the older man’s slacks pressing hard, firm into the cleft of his ass. Frank rocked against him and Nick almost swooned, knees going weak just with the long-awaited touch, needing to grip the shelf for support.

 

“Just this once, you hear me?” Frank whispered into the back of Nick’s neck, voice low and rich like caramel, melting into Nick’s ears as the kid sighed a breath of utter completion. Frank wrapped his hands tightly around Nick’s waist, pushing up the polo shirt, feeling the hard stomach underneath heaving and contracting with breath.

 

“Yes, sir,” Nick answered eagerly, eyes dark with unabashed lust.

 

“Say my name again,” Frank ordered, and Nick nodded slowly, legs turning to jelly.

 

“Mr. West…” he uttered, and that was all it took for the older man to be all over him like he was a daintily-wrapped present on Christmas morning.

 

Frank pulled Nick by the hips, his body suddenly recalling its old strength as he spun the kid around and hoisted him up at the waist. He sucked in a breath and carried Nick across the floor and sat him on the edge of his desk, grunting a little as his aged body protested the effort. Nick immediately reached for his shoulder to steady him but Frank pushed it off – he wasn’t infirmed quite yet, a fact which he planned to make the kid clearly understand.

 

He gripped Nick’s knees and pulled them wide, making the boy gasp and reach down to cover his growing erection with sudden modesty. Frank just frowned and pulled his hands away, stepping in between the boy’s legs and grinding up against him, pressing their groins together, relishing the little whine of surprise that spilled from Nick’s wet lips. He grabbed Nick at the waist and pulled him closer, crowding them together and leaning in for a kiss, which the younger man gave with enthusiasm, plunging his tongue into Frank’s mouth and sending shivers through places on his body he didn’t expect to feel again.

 

“Mm, you’re—” Frank teased between kisses, “you’re pretty good this! Flirt with a lot of older men, do you?”

 

Nick shook his head, unable to move very far from Frank’s mouth to do it, his stubble-laden chin scratching Frank’s bare face. “No. _Mmnh_ no, I swear, sir.” He gripped Frank’s shoulder with one hand, sliding the other around his back and pulling him close between his legs.

 

Frank pulled away with some effort – it was like separating himself from a particularly affectionate octopus – so he could undo his belt and pull himself free. Nick watched breathlessly as Frank revealed his cock, swollen and large, and palmed it with one hand. He tugged down the waistband of Nick’s tennis shorts with the other, only _slightly_ surprised at what he found there.

 

“A jockstrap?!” Frank shouted, and Nick blushed and covered his face with both hands, going red as a strawberry. His cock was straining beneath a miniscule little square of fabric, strapped in with a set of criss-crossing white elastics that hugged each curve and ridge of his hips, and presumably, his ass, which seemed more and more appealing by the second.

 

“Sorry!” Nick yelped as Frank tugged the straps, teasing a finger under the edge of the elastic and sliding it back and forth, making Nick’s skin prickle wherever he laid his hands. Frank wasn’t looking for an apology, however. He dove in and took two more kisses, prying Nick’s hands away from his face and planting them back on his own shoulders. He reached down and slipped the jockstrap around the head of his cock, the shaft springing free, balls still cradled in the form-fitting fabric.

 

Frank let out a tiny groan as he took their cocks together in one hand, squeezing the shafts together in one big fist. He compared their sizes automatically, Nick’s a little thinner but longer, just like his body, smoothing his fist down both shafts, noticing the way Nick’s thighs opened wider and wider under his attentions. He looked up to see the kid nibbling on his bottom lip, the plump flesh pinched beneath brilliant white teeth – fuck, he looked so _good_ , wet-eyed and obediently letting Frank stroke and touch him. He _smelled_ so good, too, all fresh and warm and young, Frank was getting woozy off the fumes.

 

“Like that?” Frank muttered, leaning close, feeling the circle of Nick’s arms tighten around his neck, nudging the boy’s jaw with his nose, making him lift his head so Frank had better access to his neck. He planted his lips there, sucking a big bruise into the tan skin.

 

“Yes,” Nick answered, voice shaky and delicate in a way that made Frank’s penis jolt up into his hand, drawing his entire lower half with it. He crowded closer, stroking their shafts in a firmer grip that had their foreskins sliding, sensitive heads pushed together. Nick let out a yelp of pleasure, thighs parting wider to let Frank inside them.

 

“Like that, do ya? Me touching your dick?” Frank asked again right next to Nick’s ear, tone filthy and undisguisedly wanting.

 

“Yes!” Nick cried, hips rising into Frank’s stuttering grasp as he pulled them closer to ecstasy together. Precum dribbled from Nick’s slit, hot and sticky, spilling over Frank’s fist and trailing all the way down his wrist.

 

He leaned in again, eyes dark and lust-blown, pinching Nick’s nipple through his shirt with his unoccupied hand, rejoicing at the excited moan the action garnered him. “You want me to fuck you?” he asked, quiet and secret into the hinge of Nick’s jaw, which clenched as he swallowed.

 

“ _Yes_ …” the boy replied, lowering his hands suggestively to Frank’s waist. “Yes.”

 

“You gonna last until then?” Frank teased, covering his hand deliberately over the head of his cock, knowing how the sensitive head would react to his rough palm. Nick’s thighs twitched as a jolt just this side of pain ricocheted up through his body and down to the tips of his toes.

 

“Yes, sir,” Nick answered obediently, and Frank smirked.

 

He pushed Nick down on the desk after sweeping the contents all off onto the floor with one arm. Important memos, tacky knickknacks, and pens lifted from hotel rooms alike all slid unceremoniously off the edge and fell with a crash that made Nick jump. Frank laid him out on his back, the teen lifting his feet to the edge, legs parted for Frank’s inspection, cock curving up towards his hard belly, which rose and fell with breath as he looked at the older man through his knees.

 

Frank pulled Nick’s shorts down over the gentle swell of his rounded ass, just enough to access his asshole. Nick’s legs fell obediently together, allowing Frank to part his ass cheeks and inspect the twitching hole, which was moving eagerly as the young man panted.

 

“Wish I had some lube or something,” Frank grumbled, patting down the pockets of his jacket and slacks, as if that would help, finding only an empty gum wrapper and a tissue.

 

“In your…second drawer,” Nick offered through breathless moans, hands raised to his chest, pulling shamelessly at his nipples through his shirt for some relief.

 

Frank’s eyes went wide when reached for the desk, finding a bottle of lube and a pile of five or so condoms in the front corner of a rarely-used drawer. “Son of a bitch!”

 

“Don’t be angry!” Nick begged, though he seemed quite beyond the fear of punishment, rolling his hips back and forth on the desk as he wiggled out of his shorts, pulling them off past his white socks and low tennis shoes and tossing them aside. Frank didn’t know what to make of the fruity punch-flavoured lube and the frankly _ambitious_ half-dozen rubbers planted in his desk, but he knew that losing his temper was pretty much the farthest thing from his mind. He dribbled a stream of the clear fluid over his fingers and reached out for Nick’s shapely ass, sliding the slick fingers down his crack and into his hole.

 

Nick groaned and tipped back his head as two of Frank’s fingers sunk into his ass, moving slowly, one knuckle at a time, grinding the narrow ring of muscle open with deliberate strokes. He was nearly sobbing with anticipation before Frank even found his prostate, nudging candidly just near the swollen bulb and dragging moan after moan from the younger man.

 

The teen suddenly gave a jolt, his back lifting from the desk when two rough fingertips curved and pressed right into his most sensitive spot, rubbing it back and forth and driving him wild. He reached down and gripped the edge of the desk, fingers white-knuckling the wood on the outsides of his parted thighs, gritting his teeth to keep from exploding right then and there.

 

The reaction was flattering to say the least, but then, Frank hadn’t gotten this far in life without knowing how to milk a prostate as well as he milked a story, so he just grinned in satisfaction as Nick gasped and trembled beneath him. He scissored his fingers open a few times for good measure, savouring the open-mouthed cries that broke from Nick’s lips when he withdrew, fingers coming away with a wet pop that was more than encouraging. Frank stroked his straining cock to full hardness, biting his lip as he rolled the condom on, the plastic hugging the hot flesh to its last vein and groove.

 

Frank thought about asking if Nick was ready, making him recite some more filthy lines before reaming him out, but he thought he would enjoy gasp of shock when he suddenly entered him, and he was not disappointed at the reaction that came. Nick whined and threw his head back, narrowly avoiding braining himself on the hardwood desk when Frank slid into him, holding his ass open with one thumb and pushing his fat cockhead inside. He pushed until the muscle gave and let him through, Nick pressing his chin to his chest and breathing deep, trying to accustom the strain and the glorious pressure of having his crush’s _cock_ finally in him.

 

“You _good?_ ” Frank asked, punctuating his words with a second thrust that drove his dick halfway inside with little preamble. Nick’s erection waned beneath his jockstrap, only to burst back to shape when Frank brushed his prostate, the girth of him sliding easily past the sensitive little knob. He gasped soundlessly, eyes going wide and scrabbling his hands to find purchase _anywhere_ on Frank, landing upon his forearms, which were anchored to the desk to give the older man leverage to fuck him into oblivion.

 

Frank grinned to himself, composure only breaking slightly with the pressure on his dick – man, the kid was tight…he hoped to God this wasn’t his first time, otherwise he would be in for some soreness tomorrow, but the way he flirted made it pretty clear he’d done this dance before. Speculating about when, where and whom with made Frank’s libido rise through the ceiling and he thrust forward, filling Nick to the limits with his thick cock.

 

Nick whined and rolled his hips up into the thrust, hardness straining beneath his jockstrap as Frank started to drive into him, slow and deliberate thrusts turning into aggressive hammering that had Nick practically crying with ecstasy. Each thrust filled him just that much more until he wasn’t aware where one of them ended and the other began, an endless loop of being fucked wild. He felt himself swoon, consciousness fading as Frank slammed into his prostate again and again until his vision went white and he nearly passed out as he came, cock spitting a trail of white cum up his brown chest.

 

Frank huffed as he saw the display, but he wasn’t about to stop now. He kept thrusting, hips diving forward and up until his thighs were almost hitting the edge of the desk, bruising from the impact while Nick held on for dear life.

 

“Aw no, you’re not done yet, kiddo!” Frank chided, while Nick panted through his orgasm, half-conscious with lust, hands trembling on the edge of the desk.

 

“N-no sir, I’m sorry, I just…” he stuttered out between panting breaths, eyes dark with lust, “I couldn’t…”

 

Frank’s thrusting was steady, practiced, what he lacked in heat he made up for with finesse, fucking the younger man while he laid splayed out on his back, gasping for breath. Nick’s cock, lassoed into place by the elastic of his jock, splurted delicately onto his brown stomach, and Frank grinned and quickened his pace.

 

“Oh…oh God,” Nick let out suddenly, hips beginning to quiver when looked and saw his hardness filling again, rising from his stomach, ready to come a second time in as many minutes. “No…way…” He looped a hand around the ultra-sensitive shaft but he couldn’t handle the stimulation, tearing his hand away and gripping Frank’s wrist again.

 

“Heh…again?” Frank grinned breathlessly, admiring the audacity of youth. When the realization came over him that he’d just about made the kid come _twice,_ it came with a roiling heat in his gut that rose up in him and made his movements turn desperate. _Fuck._ Just, _fuck._ It was too good to be true. He was never so happy for tennis shorts and precocious interns—

 

He thrust in harder, driving in to the hilt while Nick screamed and trembled beneath him, driven towards completion for a second time by the cock pistoning in his ass and making him see stars with every thrust. Frank was curved just perfectly to hit his sweet spot every time and he wasn’t stopping, until Nick’s vision started to go again and he could do nothing but scream his older lover’s name.

 

“Mr. West!” Nick cried, rolling his hips to meet Frank’s every movement, slamming his ass down against Frank’s thighs. The desk shook and shuddered under the force of their fucking, Frank’s thighs bruising on the edge of the wood, sweat rolling down his neck, until one look at the boy’s flushing face and the sound of his gasping, lilting cry drove him right over the edge.

 

“ _Mr. West!_ ”

 

Frank thrust forward and stilled, plunging deep into Nick as he came with a bestial growl. The condom flooded as Frank came harder than he had in years, Nick following him to his second orgasm of the session, spilling untouched up his belly, cum catching the edge of his polo. Nick’s arms rose up above his head seemingly unconsciously, landing behind him, gripping the edge of the desk above his head. His chest, elongated in a brawny arc, rose and sunk with breath, every muscle of his stomach and ribs stretching and contracting as he panted out his climax.

 

Frank withdrew and Nick flinched as it left him empty, hole convulsing with the loss. Frank had enough energy to remove the condom and tie it, but then his age caught up to him all in a rush and he fell back into his desk chair, which had been hastily kicked aside when he massacred his desk ornaments earlier. He was getting on in years, there was no doubt, and even as a pleasant warmth simmered in his belly and his head sang with a euphoria he hadn’t experienced in years, his back protested the strain.

 

There was only one solution, really: he needed more practice to keep up his skills.

 

“So, hey, kid?” Frank asked, casting an eye over the intern still splayed across his desk, the new vantage point giving him another angle to watch as Nick’s abdominal muscles contracted and rose with each breath beneath his softening cock, which settled atop his belly, wet and shiny. It was nearly enough to get Frank going again, and his chest gave a hopeful twinge.

 

“Yes…sir?” Nick panted, sated and exhausted. Shakily he rose to his elbows, looking over the edge of the desk.

 

“You staying late tomorrow night?” Frank gestured with his chin, as Nick sat demurely, cock unashamedly lying in plain sight against his hip. Frank just shook his head in disbelief at his luck.

 

“I don’t think so,” the teen answered with a tilt of his head, realizing after a few short seconds what was being implied and moving to open his mouth, but Frank just snatched his feet and planted them on the arms of his computer chair. The position put Frank in between Nick’s legs again, a position both of them seemed quite content to be in.

 

“Well, I think maybe you should,” Frank commented, running his hands up Nick’s shins, “I’ve got some special work for you.”


End file.
